


An Unexpected Guest

by TheTyphonSerpent



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crossover, Inter dimensional travel, M/M, Teleportation, anders is a furry probably, kajiit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:44:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTyphonSerpent/pseuds/TheTyphonSerpent
Summary: When Anders tries a spell he thinks will summon his beloved cat to him, he winds up pulling something else from a far, far away land. It certainly looks like a cat, but it isn't like anything he's ever seen before!





	An Unexpected Guest

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off a tumblr post! Check it out and reblog the original: http://typhonserpent.tumblr.com/post/168157551912/

The book had leather binding and seams that were coming undone. The entire thing looked as though it would fall apart in his hands at any moment. Nevertheless, Anders lay the book on the stump and delicately opened it to the bookmarked page.

Anders took a deep breath.

“Alright, worth a try, Anders. What’s the worst that could happen?” He’d developed that habit. Talking to himself. He was hardly around anyone these days. He didn’t even hear Justice anymore. Sometimes he would go weeks only hearing his own voice.

Picking up a stick, he began recreating the sketch on the page he’d opened. A massive circle, a few runes surrounding it. Geometric shapes connecting across each rune, until a crude summoning circle appeared in the dirt.

An overstuffed bag, papers spilling out the side, lay against the edge of the tree stump. He rustled through it until he found the broken head of a staff and jabbed the it into the center of the circle. A crude conduit.

Positioning himself opposite the tree trunk, so he could read the incantation from the book, Anders waved his hand, and began the spell.

His eyes glowed blue, waves of magic forming around him and connecting with glowing swirls that emerged from the runes in the circle.

He drew the staff from his back, channeling the strongest beam from the crystal in his intact staff to the broken-off one in the center of the circle. _Crude_ truly was the best way to describe it. Magic crackled and heated the air around him, the smell of burnt earth reached his nose, but he refused to break concentration, all of his energy going into remembering what Ser Pounce-a-lot had looked like.

Image of his cat clearly in mind, Anders sent the final burst of energy, and the summoning circle sprang to life.

A burst of wind knocked him off his feet. A loud _crack_ like a shattering plate was heard as a beam of light poured forth from the circle, disappearing into the sky. He felt his heart leap into his throat, eyes widening. Everything within a mile radius would see that.

Huge eyes returned to the base of the circle, where the light beam had begun to dissipate from the base. The sight it revealed made his jaw drop.

It wasn’t Ser Pounce-a-lot. Oh, sure, it _looked_ like him, in the same way a goat looked like a qunari. The two-legged creature was holding one side of his head, pointed ears flattened and eyes scrunched shut. Tail lashing, the man … cat … thing attempted to rise, only to stumble and return to one knee, clutching his stomach with his free hand.

Anders rushed to his side, set an arm around his shoulder and a gentle hand on one arm. “Are you hurt?” Anders asked, “Can you tell me where?”

“Nauseous.” The creature choked, “S’Pahlok does not feel well.”

“Alright, deep breaths.” He said, rubbing soothing circles onto the creature’s back, “In and out, with me. Breathe in … and out.”

The creature did as he was told, his tail eventually calming to an even twitch, muscles relaxing a bit as he managed to lower the hand that had been holding his head.

“Much better. How are you feeling now?”

The creature hummed, opened his mouth to respond (revealing a set of sharp teeth), when a muffled shout sounded from past the trees. The pair both turned in its direction, hearing the sound of footsteps over leaves, and who-knew how many people shouting commands at one another.

“Knickerweasels. No time. We have to go.” Anders took the creature by an arm and sprang to his feet, then made for his things by the stump.

Luckily, the creature seemed nimble on his feet. The light leather armor he was wearing was clearly meant to move in, and he kept up as Anders scooped up the bag and book and began running into the forest.

“S’Pahlok would like to know why this one is running!” The creature said, a strange, thick accent with every word.

“Long story, this way!” He turned a sharp corner, coming into an open field. Anders leaped over a broken fence, glancing over his shoulder once to make sure S’Pahlok was following him, before he continued over the crumbling rows of weeds and overgrown wheat.

They came upon a sorry looking farm house without a roof, where Anders led the way around the back to a storm door. Yanking it open by the latch, he stood aside for his new friend to enter.

Arms crossed, S’Pahlok raised an eyebrow, one foot tapping on the ground.

“S’Pahlok has questions.”

Panting, Anders wiped some sweat from his brow, “I imagine you do. S’Pahlok, I presume? My name is Anders.”

The mage held out his hand. Curling a lip, S’Pahlok took a moment to regard the hand as though it would bite him before he reached forward and shook it.

“I apologize for our … unexpected meeting. I will answer any questions you have. But first, can we go inside?”

Anders descended the stairs first.

He dropped his bag by the base of the stairs. It was a small cellar, a tatty blanket on the floor in one corner and a shelf with a few essentials laid out on it: oil lamp, matches, potions, elfroot, and empty bottles. Anders went for the lamp and lit it. There was some rustling behind him while he removed his coat and tossed it in the corner with his blanket.

He turned back to the stairs and was met with a pair of round, glowing eyes. Jaw slack, he watched S’Pahlok step out of the shadows, slitted eyes expanding to adjust to the light from the lamp.

“What?” S’Pahlok snapped.

Anders blinked, realizing he’d been staring. “Sorry.” He said before setting down the lamp. S’Pahlok took a seat on an empty patch of the stone shelf, tail lashing to one side. “Let’s start with the basics. Do you know where you are?”

S’Pahlok held up a piece of paper, and Anders instantly recognized it. His bag was open by the stairs, papers spilling out of it, and in S’Pahlok’s hand was a flier with a sketch of Anders, the words “WANTED FOR TREASON” printed in bold, red letters above it.

“The basement of a wanted man?” S’Pahlok said with a smirk.

His eyes lowered, unable to meet S’Pahlok’s face. The feline, meanwhile, scratched his chin, and returned his attention to the paper in front of him. “It is a good likeness. The sketch artists in Riverwood can never capture S’Pahlok’s true beauty. This one is lucky.”

S’Pahlok held out the piece of paper. Anders took it and crumpled it up. “I wouldn’t describe anything about it lucky. Though I’m glad you’re not bothered by it.”

“This one underestimates S’Pahlok’s tolerance for crime. Where most see crime, S’Pahlok sees opportunity.”

Anders stuffed the paper back into his bag. He’d use it for firewood later. Rising, he turned back to where S’Pahlok, and paused again to stare as the creature rose his hand to his mouth and began licking the fur on the back of his hand. It was as casual as could be, and Anders found a smile forming on his face. He tilted one head, watching as the cat-man made his way down his wrist and up his arm, and if he strained his ears, Anders could just barely make out a light purring sound.

“ _What?”_ S’Pahlok snapped, slamming his hand back down. His ears were bent back again, as any cat was wont to do when annoyed.

“Nothing.“ Anders replied, stifling a giggle, “I look forward to getting to know you, S’Pahlok.”


End file.
